


A Broken Myth

by seventhcodex



Series: The Sparrow and the Bull [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-12 23:01:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29143398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seventhcodex/pseuds/seventhcodex
Summary: Rie has done her best to guide Ghazan, an unlikely friend and Dotharli warrior long disconnected from his family and culture. To empower him, she provokes careful thought by posing the question:"Would you let it change you?”
Relationships: Ghazan/Mahamu, Rie/Ghazan
Series: The Sparrow and the Bull [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2139030
Kudos: 2





	A Broken Myth

“...And here is what philosophers call a broken myth.” 

Ghazan tries to feign disinterest, but he looms over Rie's shoulder anyway, careless of how close he sits behind her in the garden. His unusual concentration suggests a curiosity he's not normally willing to admit, so Rie just laughs quietly and pretends not to notice, letting him have his illusions. 

“A broken myth, a tale we know isn’t true, but repeat anyway because of it's value... Right here,” She tilts the book high enough for him to see, a finger pressed upon a line of text. The slow bobbing motions of Ghazan's head made it seem like he was counting numbers, rather than reading a script. 

Ghazan snorts softly, “...So just like any other story, then.” 

“Not precisely so…" Rie supplies quietly, and shuts her book close. "Imagine the tales we teach to our young, like our kami, who preside over those of both noble and wicked character.” 

Ghazan huffs, confusion traced in every line of his brow. Rie laughs again, quieter than before, so as to not appear impolite. “...The belief shaped my people and our nation, and is an invaluable part of our culture. Is that not similar to your Sun and Moon?”

Ghazan pauses; He exhales and purses his lip. So much careful thought. Odd for him.

A free hand wanders up Rie’s figure and pulls at strands of her black hair, a tender motion he might not yet realize, but Rie smiles softly and lets him have this idle comfort too, lets him twist the strands into a braid not unlike his own. They have known each other a long time, and small gestures like these she adored.

“It is… similar,” Ghazan says at long last, and finished with the braid. “So is all worship a broken myth, then?” 

Rie stifles a yawn, they have already had much reading and discussion, and she hoped to have him carry the lesson on to its close. “...Hum. Perhaps. But it is not quite the question I want you to think of this evening.”

Ghazan blinks. “Then what is?”

There’s a ghost of a smile on Rie’s lips. She tilts her head, a curious glint in her eyes. “If your worship and your perceived path was false… Would you let it change you?”

“...No,” Ghazan’s answer was a snap. “I wouldn’t.”

\---

The boy claws his way up the cliff, small and calloused hands reaching for purchase, for the familiar places of a climb he would make every setting of the sun. As he reached the highest point, the boy at last sees the faint silhouette of a man, known by many as Mahamu the indomitable… known only to him as father.

”Aаv!” the boy calls, rushing to the warrior’s side, pulling at the sash tied around his waist. Though the boy could barely stand over the man’s hip, he pulled with every ounce of his strength, pulling down against the mountain that was his father, desperate to gain his attention. ”...You didn’t wait for me!”

Slowly, the warrior turns and kneels before his son, a lumbering man made smaller so that he might meet the boy’s stare evenly, and though worn and scarred from countless battles, his hands moved so patiently across the boy’s face, wiping away the dust of the evening’s climb. 

”You will not learn to fend for yourself, always stuck at my side…You are of age my little bull, and when next Azim rises you must be ready for the duty it bears.” Mahamu’s hands clasp over Ghazan’s shoulders, and feeling a tremble in the boy’s body, he squeezes once, firmly, determined.

”You are afraid,” Mahamu supplies quietly, fiery focus in his eyes. ”But you will overcome it.”

Ghazan averts his eyes from his father’s. ”I’m… not afraid,” the young Dotharl starts, an embarrassed note in his voice. Lying wasn’t and never will be his strong suit. ”There is... so much to live up to, aаv.”

Mahamu’s stony features crack, a quirk at the corner of his mouth. Ever so slowly, his hand reaches and turns the boy by his chin, then stares into the fiery glow of his son’s eyes. 

”Ghazan was, and is, a proud warrior. A warrior as fierce and as they are mighty, and though it was their duty to fight, they fought for the sake of the most precious of things. To live up to your name, you must decide what is most precious to you.”

Ghazan purses his lip, eyes flickering to the side for a moment, then back to his father. ”You?” Ghazan answers simply, though stating it more like a question.

Mahamu chuffs a laugh, squeezing his son’s shoulders. ”Perhaps... we will see. But do not doubt that you possess the strength to overcome.” He presses a finger centered on Ghazan’s chest. “It is always here, my son.”

“Breathe,” Mahamu starts, calmer than he feels. “Breathe and feel the fire in you trying to break free.”


End file.
